The mechs and younglings tentatively started to mingle after the races, which was what Silverstorm had hoped for. Optimus had praised him for the idea, and Silverstorm simply glowed with pleasure. But now he was faced with a new problem: the distinct lack of people skills that the younglings struggled with and the expectations the mechs had about their age group. Now that they were coming into contact more and more often, there were more and more breaches of etiquette. Which meant more misunderstandings, more irritation, and Silverstorm could barely keep up. The general desire to take to the sky for just a few peaceful hours grew as time passed.

It was Silverbolt who convinced him to leave for a flight. Silverstorm tried to contact Optimus, but he didn't answer. He hesitated, considered going into the house Optimus was using, then decided he really didn't want to interrupt the older Prime. He had the funniest feeling that he was recharging, so he left a message with Mirage before he and Silverbolt left the shield.

They flew for awhile, reading each other's moods as they danced through the sky. Silverbolt finally evened out and led him to a tall building. They landed gingerly, testing to make sure it was sturdy enough to hold them. It was, so they strolled around the edge and just looked over the starry horizon.

"What's got you frustrated, Prime?" Silverbolt finally asked.

"Oh, the sheer insanity of the world," Silverstorm replied.

"Huh. Yeah. Tell me about it."

Silverstorm recognized the invitation, so he did. "Oh, Bumblebee won't look at me. Ratchet is frustrating Pipes with constant questions that are a bit too bossy and condescending. Mirage is driving Optimus up a wall by fawning over him and seeking his advice on every situation, but I can't just tell him to stop because I don't want to hurt him. Sideswipe is avoiding Blaster, Blaster keeps asking after the mystery musician, and round and round they go."

"Sounds like a pain," Silverbolt said sympathetically.

Silverstorm sighed and kicked at the roof. "That's not the half of it."

"Then give me the rest."

Silverstorm did so, laying out the various problems he had with both his old team and his new one. Silverbolt listened patiently as Silverstorm vented. When he was done, they continued to walk in silence. Then, after another few minutes, Silverstorm spoke.

"What are you feeling down about, Bolt?"

Silverbolt glanced away and brought his arms up to wrap around his middle. "Is it okay if I talk about Optimus? I, ah, I don't know what would overstep."

"I'm tuned in," Silverstorm said.

Silverbolt sighed. "I don't think Optimus likes me and my team. He seems… distant."

"Distant?" Silverstorm asked. "In what way?"

"He just looks at us differently. I don't know what to think." Silverbolt squirmed. "Is it surprising that I feel so… inadequate around him?"

"Not at all."

There was a beeping, and Silverstorm tapped his audial. "Yeah?"

"Where are you?" Optimus asked.

"Went for a flight with Bolt. I didn't want to wake you up, so I left a message with Mirage."

"Oh. Good," Optimus said.

"Thought I was getting into trouble again?" Silverstorm asked, his fuel tank squeezing with nerves.

"Not at all. I just…" There was a pause. "I just wanted to be sure."

"Ah. Right… Well, we'll head back then. Okay? See you."

"Wait."

Silverstorm almost disconnected despite the command, wanting to flinch away from the painful truth. But he stopped himself. "Yeah?"

"We'll talk when you get back. Come to my quarters. Bring Silverbolt. And I promise I didn't mean to hurt you."

Silverstorm relaxed a little. "Okay. We'll be there in a few clicks."

Silverstorm relayed the message to Silverbolt, who looked alarmed. "He wants to talk to me?"

"Sure sounds like it," Silverstorm said. "So let's jet."

"Yeah. Okay."

Their flight back informed Silverstorm that Silverbolt was nervous. Silverstorm couldn't blame him. All the younglings were nervous around Optimus. Mirage was the only one who had lost any of the tense uneasiness that the younglings felt around the mechs, but everybody else was still wary of what was a startling intrusion into their lives. They hadn't met anybody new before Silverstorm had come to them. They were tight-knit despite their issues, and this was entirely new territory for them.

When they landed and passed through the shield, Silverbolt hesitated before following Silverstorm to the house Optimus's command team was using as their quarters. Silverstorm stopped in front of the door then reached out to trace a soothing symbol on Silverbolt's wings. Silverbolt smiled nervously but nodded. So Silverstorm knocked then put in the code.

They walked in to see a neat space with sparse decorations. There were a few symbols painted on the walls in a way that reminded Silverstorm of calligraphy. There was the symbol for home, the symbol for family, the symbol for friends, and the symbol for hope. The symbols were gorgeous, painted in gold and silver and the richest hues of every color Silverstorm could imagine. Silverstorm stepped forward and stared, mesmerized by the intricate art. Then a symbol caught his optics in the tiniest of the details, and he scanned it.

"You're here," Optimus said, coming into the room. He paused when he saw Silverstorm studying the symbol for hope. "It's nice, isn't it?" Optimus asked.

"How did you make this, Optimus?"

Optimus shuttered his optics. "What?"

"This… This is like nothing I've ever seen before! I had no idea this was even possible!" Silverstorm straightened and looked at Optimus. "How did you do this?"

"What makes you think it was me?" Optimus asked, bewildered.

Silverstorm grinned and pointed at the signature that was woven into the tiniest of the details.

"Nobody usually notices," Optimus said softly. "I mean, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Bumblebee know. I've told Kup. But…"

"It's fantastic," Silverstorm said solemnly.

A shy smile crossed Optimus's faceplates, and he walked over to look at the symbol. "Nobody ever asks what I wanted to do with my life before the war." He paused then pointed and traced out a path. "The symbol is made up of others. They tell a story. In the details is the story of the chasm, and how Primus was given his task to guide us by the Great One."

"It's a whole story?" Silverbolt asked.

Optimus looked at him then nodded. "Yes." He didn't explain, stepping away and leading them to a parlor. Silverbolt stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. Silverstorm sat down and made himself comfortable. Optimus retrieved some mid-grade and handed a cube to Silverstorm then noticed Silverbolt.

"Afraid I'll bite?" Optimus asked wryly.

Silverbolt looked away and his wings shifted. Optimus smiled.

"Don't be embarrassed. I know how others see me," Optimus said, waving his hand. "I've been looked at like the savior of the civilized world since Primus chose me. It doesn't surprise me. Come and sit down, Bolt."

The nickname seemed to ease Silverbolt's nerves, and he strolled in and perched on a chair, accepting a cube. Optimus sank down and sighed.

"Defrag me, I'm so tired," he muttered.

"Why?" Silverstorm asked.

"I, ah, haven't been recharging well," Optimus said.

"Ratchet can't help?" Silverstorm asked.

"I haven't asked him," Optimus said.

"Why not?" Silverbolt asked.

"Ah, he has better things to do."

"Better things to do?" Silverbolt asked.

"Yes."

"Than his job?"

Optimus cringed. "You… have a point." He paused. "I suppose I didn't want to bother him. He's been rather irritable lately."

"What about Aid?" Silverstorm asked, sipping on his energon. The delicious buzz of energy was just what he'd needed.

"He won't touch me without Ratchet's permission," Optimus said. He looked into his energon. "He's rather… territorial about his patients."

"Among other things," Silverstorm muttered, thinking of the bossy attitude and disrespect of Pipes's medbay. "I can have Pipes swing by. He won't be bothered."

Optimus shook his head then looked thoughtful. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

"Then you can invite him over. Later. We need to talk first."

"Ugh, do we have to?" Silverstorm groaned.

Optimus looked amused. "Magnus recommends open communication."

"Ah, frag him," Silverstorm grumbled.

"Silverstreak!" Optimus exclaimed before he could stop himself. There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Optimus took a deep intake. "Sorry. Silverstorm. I… I just don't like to hear you wish that on him. He's really starting to recover. And you told me yourself that he's good for you."

Silverstorm snorted. "Nah, not like that. I just meant he's right, Optimus."

"You should choose your words carefully," Optimus said. "What if Magnus heard you say that?"

Silverstorm flinched. "He'd feel awful…" He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Words can hurt and heal, but one is far easier to do," Optimus said. "Remember that."

"That's good advice," Silverbolt admitted. He paused and swirled the remains of his energon. "So… what do you want to talk to me about?"

Optimus peered at him then looked away. "Ratchet has mentioned that he is concerned about Fireflight and his…unusual behavior."

Silverbolt stiffened and his optics flashed. "So?"

Optimus looked at him. "Is he using Cyconium?"

Silverbolt relaxed. "Oh. No. He's not."

"Cyconium?" Silverstorm asked. "What's that?"

Optimus looked grim. "It's an illegal substance that addles the mind and ultimately destroys the sparks of those who become addicted to it. He has some concerning symptoms that match up with extreme usage."

Silverbolt looked uncomfortable. "Well, he's not using Cyconium."

"Then what's wrong?" Optimus asked.

"None of your fragging concern!" Silverbolt snapped, his optics flashing again. His wings hitched high and he seemed to become bigger. "And I will thank you to keep yourself out of it!"

"We're just concerned about him," Optimus said. "Ironhide found him whining and rocking back and forth yesterday. He brought him to Pipes, and Pipes seemed to know what to do, but he wouldn't let Ratchet access his medical files."

"It's none of his concern either!" Silverbolt snapped. "Medics don't need to touch Flight anyway! He doesn't like medics! Medics are no good and hurt you!"

Optimus looked increasingly bewildered as Silverbolt began to crack. Silverstorm stood up and stepped between them, focusing on Silverbolt.

"Bolt, take a deep, deep intake with me. In. Yep, that's it. Now out. Focus on that. Okay? Now listen. Optimus and Ratchet have every right to know what's wrong."

"He doesn't need to relive that!" Silverbolt shouted. "They don't need to know! I don't want those fragging medics to know! I know Pipes! I trust Pipes! I don't know Ratchet or First Aid! And they scare us!" He gasped for breath as he grew too warm, and he began to shake.

Silverstorm reached over and placed his palms flat on the planes of Silverbolt's wings. He put gentle pressure on the panels. "Intake with me. In. Out. Good. Relax. Calm down."

Optimus watched in fascination as Silverstorm soothed the panicking flier. His voice was calm and steady, his commands sure. Bit by bit, Silverbolt gathered himself. When he met Silverstorm's optics, he looked frightened.

"They scare us, Prime. They all do. Including him." Silverbolt looked at Optimus. "I can't trust you yet. Please, sir, don't press this. I can't do this. We can't. If you do that, we may never trust you."

Optimus nodded slowly. "By we, you mean you and the rest of the Aerialbots?"

"Yes, sir."

Optimus settled back. "I need to know something about what's going on. His behavior is concerning and a bit hazardous sometimes. I need to know how to approach the situation, how everybody is supposed to approach the situation."

Silverbolt looked away, his wings hitching higher. Then Silverstorm spoke. "Bolt? I have an idea, but I need to ask you something."

"Okay," Silverbolt said softly.

"Do you trust me?"

Silverbolt looked up, not even hesitating as he answered. "Yes."

"Then let me tell him something. I think it'll satisfy both of you."

Silverbolt did hesitate this time before he nodded, his expression guarded. Silverstorm turned and sat back down, facing the other two. He went very quiet and thought for several minutes before he nodded.

"Okay. Here's what I'll tell you about their situation, Optimus. It involves Shockwave. They fear medical tools. And they have major trauma from the experiences, especially Fireflight. Is that enough?"

Optimus chewed on that for a few moments then nodded. "It is. So it's medical trauma-related PTSD. Yes, that would explain his symptoms. And I think that would satisfy Ratchet. And it gives us a way to handle Fireflight. I'll help the medics put something together for everybody to review."

"I'll pass that to the younglings, too," Silverstorm said.

"They are a part of everybody," Optimus said.

Silverstorm paused then looked embarrassed. "Yeah. Guess they are. Sorry. It's just… weird. You know, having somebody else."

"I understand perfectly," Optimus said. "And there'll be some ruts in the road, but we'll smooth out eventually. The important thing is that we keep talking. As much as it's annoying, Magnus is right."

Silverstorm smiled. "Yeah." He paused. "So you were just making sure?"

"Ah, yeah," Optimus said. He considered telling them about the weird dream he'd had where he'd been with Silverbolt and Silverstorm as they flew through the sky in search of a moment's rest. Then he decided that it would simply be too strange. "As much as I think you wish I was past your old behavior, I can't just forget. We need to build trust, Silverstorm. This is a way we can do that. You can check in with me anytime and ask where I am and what I'm doing. That way it's fair."

"Oh, like you get into trouble," Silverstorm scoffed.

Optimus smiled. "Oh, you don't know me that well, Storm."

Silverstorm's spark leaped in his chest, and pleasure made him smile. Nobody had given him a nickname since he'd gotten his new designation from Primus. It felt like a whole new step in their relationship.

"Like that?" Optimus asked, grinning.

"Storm. A nickname. You know everybody just calls me Prime?" Silverstorm asked.

"Tell me about it," Optimus mumbled.

Silverbolt watched their interaction, pleased by the way Silverstorm had handled the Aerialbots' privacy while still giving Optimus what he wanted. As he watched them, his keen gestalt optics took in the push and pull of the two Primes, and he smiled to himself. He could see evidence of the powerful bond he sensed between them, linking them as leaders of Cybertron. Nobody else would ever be closer to them than they were to each other. He could see the beginning of the bond, and it was so natural compared to the brutal combining of the Aerialbots' sparks. He couldn't wait until they discovered who they were together.

"Silverbolt?" Silverstorm asked, tapping the back of his wing.

"Hm?" Silverbolt turned to look at him.

"Was that okay?" Silverstorm asked. "Did I say too much?"

"No, Prime," Silverbolt assured him. "You did well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on my Aerialbots. It was nice flying with you. And talking with the two of you was pleasant."

Silverbolt stood up and threw a wave over his shoulder as he left. Silverstorm watched him go, happy that he hadn't misjudged his words.

"Let's go talk to Ratchet," Optimus said.

"Ugh, do we have to?"

"Yes," Optimus said.

"Fine. After you, Optimum."

Optimus let out a strangled laugh. "Optimum?"

"You gave me a nickname, and I get to give you one," Silverstorm said. "It's only fair."

"But Optimum?" Optimus asked. "Why?"

"Because you're the best mech for the job," Silverstorm replied, then he turned and headed for the door. "Let's get this over with, Optimum!"

Optimus forced himself to hurry after him as his mind reeled. He recalled asking the Great One for the millionth time why he'd been chosen out of everybody else on Cybertron. He certainly hadn't expected the answer to come from Silverstorm. But he was grateful it had. He placed his fingertips on the back of Silverstorm's right wing and tapped one finger at a time in rapid succession.

Silverstorm turned, startled, then smiled. He didn't know how Optimus knew what that wing gesture meant, but he was grateful to know that he'd needed to hear that. The two Primes headed for the medbay, and they were comfortable with each other's equal status for the very first time. It wouldn't last, they both knew that, but it finally felt possible that they could learn to work together.